The old Mohammedan captain of the guard gazed miserably from Gerrard to Sher Singh and back again, and finally faltered out that to the best of his recollection it was before the Sahib's visit.
"Then the petition had been rejected before I arrived, and the messenger despatched bearing the Rajah's refusal to see his son's face," said Gerrard.
"The man lies. It was after," burst forth Sher Singh. "Here is Sada
Sukhi, the king's friend, who can testify it."
"Then," said Gerrard calmly, "the messenger murdered the Rajah, since both my guards and his own can testify that he bade me farewell in good health at the door of this very tent, and did me the honour to admire my horse."
"Fool! does a man murder the one who has just promised to give him all he desires?" cried Sher Singh.
"No, but he does sometimes murder the one who has refused it. And so
Prince Sher Singh was his own messenger?"
"It is a lie—I swear it!" He appealed frantically to the bystanders. "I was at Adamkot, the fortress of my father-in-law, and rode forth on the very heels of my messenger, so eager was I to receive my father's answer. Then when the gracious response arrived—the messenger meeting me on the way—as I could set no bounds to my joy, even so was it with my speed, and I rode hither at a pace that was like to kill my horse and the horses of those that were with me."
Gerrard dismissed the explanation with a wave of the hand, but old Sada Sukhi, who had succeeded Dwarika Nath as Diwan, and was by common consent the wiliest man in Agpur, cringed humbly forward.
"I will take it upon me to speak, worthless as I am, in the presence of these great ones," he murmured. "Surely there is wrong in speaking of murder, since no sign of any such horror has been found. But if our lord Partab Singh Rajah died in the course of nature, then Kunwar Sher Singh has been unjustly accused by Jirad Sahib, and Jirad Sahib by Sher Singh. Is this a moment to bandy accusations that cannot be maintained, when our lord's body lies unburnt, and all our minds should be devoted to mourning him and paying fitting reverence to his obsequies?"
"Truly do they call thee wise, old man!" said Sher Singh heartily. "My sorrow comes upon me as a flood at thy words, and I desire only to mourn my beloved father."